Ian Danver
The sky was still gray and to the west was even darker, probably a storm coming. We continued to walk Northward and came across in a large, desolate field a small playground and a bench stood out. The playground equipment consisted of nothing more than a merry-go-round and a slide. Nothing complex like the one at the school in New Bottsford. On the bench, was a very old lady sitting who’s hands were in a slight tremble. Her eyes were very clouded and foggy-like as she did not notice our approach until we were much closer to her.
‘Welcome to the playground.” The old, decrepit woman said as she turned and stared at us with her opaque eyes as her left hand intensely shook for a moment. “Aren't these children adorable?” We turned and scanned our heads to actually try and see if there were any children. Amid this field with no other living creature among us, we didn’t see any.
“Umm, where?” I asked as finished my pointless scan.
“There.” She responded as her unsteady hand finger pointed at Rio. He quickly turned around as the rest of looked towards the rusted-up slide. “My grandson is on the slide.” She stands and looks past Rio, despite staring directly at him. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as she smiles. “My, is the grass such a beautiful shade of green this time of the year. The leaves blowing around, the birds chirping their songs. In fact, earlier today I saw the most beautiful cardinal resting on a charging post as it sung away it’s song.”
“What are you talking about?” Robert asked with a very perplexed face.
“Well, look around you.” She answered motioning her arms across with a smile.
“We did. There is nothing here.”
“You are aware that society kind of collapsed some time ago?” I prodded the question to her. I was about to walk off, but if there was anything that she knew it had to be under all of this random talk of hers so I needed to pay attention.
“Oh that stuff, that was so long ago and things are so much better since it got sorted out.” She smiled while taking in a breath.
“Where are these kids you speak of?” I asked. “How long have they been here?”
“Well, they usually play until the evening and then my grandson and I are going back to my home just on the other side of the Interstate.”
“What do you mean? Did you not notice all the cars and trucks zipping by over there as you came?” Pointing at a ruined, elevated roadway with numerous cars and semi-trucks strewn about decaying in the overcast sky. “Any who, my grandson Anton and I earlier this afternoon celebrated my 95th birthday with a nice carrot cake that he made and frosted. He even created small carrots out of orange frosting on it. How adorable my Anton is.”
At this point, Bordeaux was rather perplexed and at what this lady was talking about. Others were just rolling with what she was clambering about while I just simply paid attention and nodded my head.
She momentarily turned her head to look around and breathed a sigh of relief. “Ah good, those bullies have not come by at all today and I still don’t see them.”
That got my attention locked on. “Bullies? What about them? Have they been hurting anyone lately?” I asked with interest.
“These bullies are no good. They’re so mean to anyone they come across. The last time I saw them was four days ago.” She replied with a sense of anger towards whoever these people were. Rio simply rolled his eyes as she talked. I however was thinking that I may have found something out of her talk that needed to be paid attention to.
“How often do they come around?” I asked her with growing interest.
“Mostly once in a given week. But they seem to put this playground on their list of places to push kids around.” Responding with a anguished look. “Once I saw them fire a potato gun at a nice young girl. They nearly took her eye out from it.”
The others were not taking notice of this, but my stomach was starting to cringe as I translated that into my head. “Where do they hang out at usually?” I continued to her.
“Well, when these mean ones are not roaming around...” She started to shift topics. “Where is my purse? Oh dear, my purse. Where did it go to?”
Bordeaux noticed a haggard-looking satchel made from numerous bits of leather. She took a quick look inside of it. There was a dead squirrel in it along with some rubber bands, brass knuckles, and a shiny red apple. Bordeaux, less than thrilled by the dead animal inside, handed over the satchel to the old woman.
“Thank you, young lady.” Said the relieved woman as she reached for the sack. Bordeaux uncomfortably smiled.
“Do you use those brass knuckles in your purse?” Rio asked.
“Those things? Not at all.”
“Would you like to trade them for some green tea I’ve been carrying around?”
“Ah yes, I would love to have some. I’ve been needing a good cup of tea lately.” She excitedly agreed to the trade offer. Taking the brass knuckles as they clinked together, Rio grabbed a green tea packet and handed it to her as she gave Rio the brass knuckles.
“About those bullies you were talking about. Where are they usually at? Where is their hideout?” I asked for a second time.
“Well, just be aware of the fork in the road...” She stated as Bordeaux begun to wail her arms around in frustration. This stopped the old lady in her thoughts and begun to freak out. “Why did you hit my grandson? That was very much uncalled for. Apologize to Anton at once!” She demanded as her tone changed from light-hearted to genuinely angered. Her arms seemed to be holding someone like they were crying. The pressure from her fingers and tension in the muscles did not fake anything. With the exception of someone occupying the space, this old woman was definably grasping something. Bordeaux apologized and the rest were beginning to leave.
“What is your name by chance?” Asked Claire.
Calming down she replied, “Everyone at the playground calls me ‘Grandma Brooks’.”
As we walked away from Grandma Brooks, I was rather steamed; when I finally start asking questions and get some sort of information that I can work with the others screw it up somehow. What did this woman mean by “Bullies” and to be aware of the fork in the road? She would not have gone into some sort of depth on a topic unless it was real, right? I could not stop thinking about this and kept it in front of my mind. I think I know what those “Bullies” really are in the real world and I hope that if I’m wrong that they only carry potato guns and nothing more.
The sky was still gray and to the west was even darker, probably a storm coming. We continued to walk Northward and came across in a large, desolate field a small playground and a bench stood out. The playground equipment consisted of nothing more than a merry-go-round and a slide. Nothing complex like the one at the school in New Bottsford. On the bench, was a very old lady sitting who’s hands were in a slight tremble. Her eyes were very clouded and foggy-like as she did not notice our approach until we were much closer to her.
‘Welcome to the playground.” The old, decrepit woman said as she turned and stared at us with her opaque eyes as her left hand intensely shook for a moment. “Aren't these children adorable?” We turned and scanned our heads to actually try and see if there were any children. Amid this field with no other living creature among us, we didn’t see any.
“Umm, where?” I asked as finished my pointless scan.
“There.” She responded as her unsteady hand finger pointed at Rio. He quickly turned around as the rest of looked towards the rusted-up slide. “My grandson is on the slide.” She stands and looks past Rio, despite staring directly at him. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as she smiles. “My, is the grass such a beautiful shade of green this time of the year. The leaves blowing around, the birds chirping their songs. In fact, earlier today I saw the most beautiful cardinal resting on a charging post as it sung away it’s song.”
“What are you talking about?” Robert asked with a very perplexed face.
“Well, look around you.” She answered motioning her arms across with a smile.
“We did. There is nothing here.”
“You are aware that society kind of collapsed some time ago?” I prodded the question to her. I was about to walk off, but if there was anything that she knew it had to be under all of this random talk of hers so I needed to pay attention.
“Oh that stuff, that was so long ago and things are so much better since it got sorted out.” She smiled while taking in a breath.
“Where are these kids you speak of?” I asked. “How long have they been here?”
“Well, they usually play until the evening and then my grandson and I are going back to my home just on the other side of the Interstate.”
“What is ‘The Interstate’?” Said Claire.
“What do you mean? Did you not notice all the cars and trucks zipping by over there as you came?” Pointing at a ruined, elevated roadway with numerous cars and semi-trucks strewn about decaying in the overcast sky. “Any who, my grandson Anton and I earlier this afternoon celebrated my 95th birthday with a nice carrot cake that he made and frosted. He even created small carrots out of orange frosting on it. How adorable my Anton is.”
At this point, Bordeaux was rather perplexed and at what this lady was talking about. Others were just rolling with what she was clambering about while I just simply paid attention and nodded my head.
She momentarily turned her head to look around and breathed a sigh of relief. “Ah good, those bullies have not come by at all today and I still don’t see them.”
That got my attention locked on. “Bullies? What about them? Have they been hurting anyone lately?” I asked with interest.
“These bullies are no good. They’re so mean to anyone they come across. The last time I saw them was four days ago.” She replied with a sense of anger towards whoever these people were. Rio simply rolled his eyes as she talked. I however was thinking that I may have found something out of her talk that needed to be paid attention to.
“How often do they come around?” I asked her with growing interest.
“Mostly once in a given week. But they seem to put this playground on their list of places to push kids around.” Responding with a anguished look. “Once I saw them fire a potato gun at a nice young girl. They nearly took her eye out from it.”
The others were not taking notice of this, but my stomach was starting to cringe as I translated that into my head. “Where do they hang out at usually?” I continued to her.
“Well, when these mean ones are not roaming around...” She started to shift topics. “Where is my purse? Oh dear, my purse. Where did it go to?”
Bordeaux noticed a haggard-looking satchel made from numerous bits of leather. She took a quick look inside of it. There was a dead squirrel in it along with some rubber bands, brass knuckles, and a shiny red apple. Bordeaux, less than thrilled by the dead animal inside, handed over the satchel to the old woman.
“Thank you, young lady.” Said the relieved woman as she reached for the sack. Bordeaux uncomfortably smiled.
“Do you use those brass knuckles in your purse?” Rio asked.
“Those things? Not at all.”
“Would you like to trade them for some green tea I’ve been carrying around?”
“Ah yes, I would love to have some. I’ve been needing a good cup of tea lately.” She excitedly agreed to the trade offer. Taking the brass knuckles as they clinked together, Rio grabbed a green tea packet and handed it to her as she gave Rio the brass knuckles.
“About those bullies you were talking about. Where are they usually at? Where is their hideout?” I asked for a second time.
“Well, just be aware of the fork in the road...” She stated as Bordeaux begun to wail her arms around in frustration. This stopped the old lady in her thoughts and begun to freak out. “Why did you hit my grandson? That was very much uncalled for. Apologize to Anton at once!” She demanded as her tone changed from light-hearted to genuinely angered. Her arms seemed to be holding someone like they were crying. The pressure from her fingers and tension in the muscles did not fake anything. With the exception of someone occupying the space, this old woman was definably grasping something. Bordeaux apologized and the rest were beginning to leave.
“What is your name by chance?” Asked Claire.
Calming down she replied, “Everyone at the playground calls me ‘Grandma Brooks’.”
As we walked away from Grandma Brooks, I was rather steamed; when I finally start asking questions and get some sort of information that I can work with the others screw it up somehow. What did this woman mean by “Bullies” and to be aware of the fork in the road? She would not have gone into some sort of depth on a topic unless it was real, right? I could not stop thinking about this and kept it in front of my mind. I think I know what those “Bullies” really are in the real world and I hope that if I’m wrong that they only carry potato guns and nothing more.